


Lies and Forgetting - Love and Forgiving

by Meraad



Series: The Many Adventures of Aella and Thom [6]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Heartbreak, implied mentions of suicide, more tears, rage filled inquisitor, sap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 21:25:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9403547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meraad/pseuds/Meraad
Summary: The truth about the Grey Warden Blackwall has come out. Thom Rainier awaits judgment from the woman he loves.“You make people forget things,” Thom said, a sudden idea, heartbreaking to himself, but if it helped her, if it saved her from going down a path she should never have walked, he'd gladly accept anything.“Sometimes,” Cole admitted. “Mostly just me. But sometimes.”“Can you make her forget me? Everything about me."





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is nothing close to what was originally floating around in my brain. It started on my drive home from work and spiraled out of control. I hope you enjoy it!

Thom Rainier sat on the floor of his small cell, back against the hard stone, arms resting on raised knees. How long? He wondered. How long would she keep him here? The time stretched endlessly. He mostly ignored the meals that were brought. Was she planning on letting him die of old age in the dark cell? Or did she have grand plans to take her revenge? She'd be welcome to it. He would gladly accept whatever punishment she deemed fit for the likes of him. 

A sound drew his attention, soft flicker of a candle. Cole knelt in front of his cell, head bowed slightly. Thom was surprised. No one had come to see him, save for the occasional guard come to bring him food or dump the chamber pot. Sudden concern flared within him, causing him to practically leap toward the bars. He landed on his knees, fingers curled around the bars. “What is it?” he asked, conscious of the tremor in his voice. “What's wrong? Is it Aella?”

Cole tipped his head and in the dim light Thom could see his furrowed brow and the slight shake. “She isn't herself, not anymore.”

“What are you talking about? What do you mean she isn't herself?” Thom's heart was racing. How could she not be herself?

“She was herself when she went to Val Royeaux but when she came back it wasn't her. No laughing, no smiling. Just empty and pain.” 

The words were a lance through Thom's heart. It was his doing. He was responsible for whatever pain she was in. “Help her,” Thom said softly. Because that is what Cole did. He helped. Healed. Surely he could do that for Aella. He had only been an infatuation. She couldn't have loved him, worthless as he was.

“She saw your worth,” Cole's words were a whisper. “I can't help her. She won't let me. She spars and fights, but she doesn't play nice. The Iron Bull won't even spar with her anymore. She is hard and ice. But at night, when she sleeps, she cries.”

Forehead pressed against the cold iron bars, Thom let the tears roll down his face. “My doing. I never...” He never what? His pushing her away had been token protests at most. He'd wanted her the moment he saw her. Had loved her the first time she'd sat with him. No words. She had just sat down beside him, slipped her arm through his and rested her temple against his shoulder. And once he'd had her, touched her, tasted her, there was no going back. She owned his heart, it was as simple as that.

And everything that she knew of him, about the man he claimed to be was a lie. Granted, he'd told her truths, many of them. But the core of what she believed, wasn't remotely true. He believed she was sent, if not as the Herald of Andraste, just to be in the world. To bring joy and do good. Because at the core of her, was someone who loved. 

“You make people forget things,” Thom said, a sudden idea, heartbreaking to himself, but if it helped her, if it saved her from going down a path she should never have walked, he'd gladly accept anything.

“Sometimes,” Cole admitted. “Mostly just me. But sometimes.” 

“Can you make her forget me? Everything about me, from the moment she saw me in the Hinterlands.” 

Cole was silent for a long time and then finally he gave his head a small nod. “I could. But the others would have to forget too.”

“Then do it.” Thom's breath hitched in his throat. “I should have hung years ago. Let this be my recompense.” 

“When they forget, who will bring you food?”

Thom shook his head. “It doesn't matter. Once it's done, once she's better, herself again. Leave me a dagger and I'll solve that problem myself.” 

“Aella wouldn't like that.” 

“But Aella won't remember.” Between one breath and the next, Cole was gone. Would he do it? Thom wondered. Was it the cowards way out? Probably. Hadn't he proven time and time again that he was a coward? For her, he would do anything. Including erase himself from the memory of the only woman he had ever loved. He would gladly have her look at him as if he were a stranger if it meant she'd be whole again. If he could hear her laugh, watch her spar with Cassandra, or drink with Dorian. 

 

Aella's knuckles were a bloody mess of torn flesh and probably a few broken bones. The tree in front of her bore only a dark stain. She was anger. That was all she was anymore. She had no room for anything else inside of her. She would leave the Inquisition. They didn't need her to stop Corypheus. Or maybe she'd just go after him herself. 

A flicker of movement at her side and she spun around, hand going to her staff, but then the moon caught pale blonde hair, pale skin, wide eyes. “What?” she snapped, dropping her hands at her side. 

“He wants you to forget.” 

Cole, the boy she'd found endearing, sweet and had taken to like the child she'd never have. His hand was outstretched, but he wavered. “What are you talking about?” Aella demanded. “Forget what?” 

“Him.” 

Then she knew. Blackwall. Thom Rainier. The liar. Her companions had been pestering her, telling her to pass her judgment. To just end it. With death or banishment. Something. Anything. It had been... she paused, tried to figure it out. Months? Maybe it had been years. At least that was how it felt to her. It had been years since they had last lain together, made love with a desperation that she understood in the aftermath. It had been his goodbye. 

It had all been a lie.

“No.” Aella stuck her hands on her hips. “Don't you dare.” 

“But you hurt,” there was a desperate tone to his voice. “You won't let me help. He wants to help.” 

“When did you go see him?” Her voice rose. “What did he tell you?”

Cole told her everything and Aella felt like her heart was breaking apart all over again. He was right. She didn't play nice anymore. When was the last time anyone had spoken to her just out of the simple desire to talk? She couldn't remember. “Could you do it?” she asked Cole in a quiet voice, that in the still night felt like a shout. 

“I think so. I can lock away the memories. But I can't lock away feelings. They are there. Always there.” 

Rubbing her sternum, she willed away the ache in her chest. “No,” she whispered and turned around and headed back toward Skyhold. She slipped through the gate and, because she knew he would still be awake, went up to find Cullen. It was a mark of how much had changed that he glanced at her hands, but said nothing of the dripping blood. “Commander,” she paused, took a breath. “Cullen, do you have a moment?”

Surprise had him raising his eyebrows, but he quickly controlled his features. “Of course, Inquisitor.” He stood, held his hands behind his back and waited. 

“What would you do with him, if you had your say?” There was no need to speak his name. Cullen knew exactly who 'he' was. 

There was a long silence before Cullen reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “I won't lie,” he said. “And say that I would forgive him. He betrayed his own men. Lied to them and many of them died because of that lie. But, it is clear that he regretted those actions. Did what he could to make the lives of others better, never asking for anything in return. He has been a crucial part of the Inquisition. Despite what damage him coming forward with the truth may have done. None of it is irreparable. There is always the option of sending him to the Wardens. That is, after all, where he'd been headed long ago.” Cullen cocked his head to the side, glanced meaningfully down at her hands. “That is if you haven't already beat him to a bloody pulp.” The corner of his mouth turned up in a barely there smile, and Aella felt herself cracking.

She looked down at her hands, the pain from more than the broken skin and bone washing over her. “What if you loved someone, with every fiber of your being, and they ripped out not just your heart, but part of your soul... what if you could just forget them. Forget everything about them. Would you do it?” 

Cullen's brow creased and he nearly reached out to her, the pain so apparent in her voice. “How does that mend the loss of a heart or a soul? Wouldn't you just be empty without the memories?” 

“Thank you, Cullen. I-” her breath caught. “Thank you.” She turned and left the room, out on the ramparts, then down the stone steps. She crossed the courtyard, shoved open the heavy wooden door, startling the guard who had been leaning against the wall, half asleep. “Keys.” She held out her hand and without a word the woman handed them over. 

Aella made her way down the long hallway. A candle sat on the floor near one of the cells. In that cell a man, was on his knees, fingers curled around the iron bars, whispering softly. He looked up when she stepped between the candle and his cell. Eyes wide, gaunt cheeks damp. He looked... haggard. It stole the breath from her lungs. 

“No,” it was a broken whisper before he pressed his forehead to the bars and made a broken sound. 

“You'd take my heart and then my memories?” She kept her voice low, but it was full of all the anger and hurt she'd been trying to quash since she'd found out the truth about the so-called Warden Blackwall.

“Aella.” He shook his head, made the broken sound again that pulled at her heart, or what was left of it. “It would be better,” he said, tipped his face back again to look at her. “It has to be better.” He noticed her hands and his hand shot through the bars. “What happened to you?” Deep voice, full of concern. She jerked back before he could touch her. 

“And just what would happen to you? When I forget? When everyone here forgets you? You sneak off again into the night? Steal another man's identity?” 

“No.” The reply was quiet. Simple. He drew his hand back through the bar and she saw the dagger beside him. It was hers. The one she always carried, until it disappeared weeks ago. Cole, she thought, and then it's purpose in Thom's cell caught up with her. 

“How dare you!” she yelled. She wanted to grab him, to shake him. Throttle him and kiss him and wrap her arms around him and bury herself in his scent. She dropped to her knees, grabbed the dagger in a lightning fast move, tossed it away and then covered his hands on the bars with her own. “How dare you!” 

“Aella,” he breathed out her name, and she saw the tears in his eyes before he shut them tightly and felt his hands tense beneath hers. 

“You don't just get to wish it away!” her voice broke and she let her forehead rest against one of the bars, the tears she'd fought so hard to keep inside finally rolling down her cheeks. “You have to face your mistakes.” 

“I tried,” he grumbled at her. “You spoiled that. I should have hanged. I should have hanged a long time ago. I tried to do right-” 

“Sacrificing yourself to die doesn't make anything right.” She clenched her eyes shut tightly, felt his breath warm on her face. “You broke my heart. You lied to me. Everything-” 

One of his hands shifted slightly beneath hers, she tightened her grip but realized broken fingers don't stand a chance of keeping a hold of something when someone else is determined. He moved his hand, careful to curl around her wrist, avoiding broken flesh. “I never lied about my feelings. I love you, Aella. I wanted to tell you the truth, but by the time... I was too far in. I knew I'd only hurt you. That is why I left. I wanted to spare you some pain.”

“Did you truly think I would just let you go?” her voice a rough whisper. “That I would allow the man who held my heart in his hands to just vanish?” 

“I'd hoped-” his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat to try again. “I had hoped that your feelings for me were not as strong as mine for you. A passing fancy. That you would never know the truth of the man who you had taken to your bed.” 

“What would you have me do, Blac-” she cut herself off. “I don't even know what to call you.” 

“I don't deserve any mercy.” 

“And what about me? Do I deserve any?” 

Thom cupped her cheek and kissed her. A simple meeting of lips that tasted of salt and sorrow. “You deserve nothing but happiness.” 

“And if that happiness is you? Then what?” He drew back, retreating to the back of his cell, out of her reach. She opened her eyes, could only see the shadow of the man whom she adored. 

“I've never deserved you, Aella. Wanted you, yes. Loved you, with every piece of me. You deserve a man whose past isn't littered with bodies and lies.” 

They sat in silence for a long time, the only sound their ragged breathing. Finally, knees aching, Aella stood up and made her way back down the long corridor. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. Iron Bull and the Chargers were already out running through exercises and sparring. “Boss?” Iron Bull said as she passed him. She imagined she looked like a wreck. 

“I'm so tired, Bull.” Not just from the lack of sleep, she was exhausted, mentally, physically. Her very soul felt worn out. Battered. 

“Want Stitches to take a look at those hands?” 

Aella looked down at her hands, saw in the early morning light, the damage she'd done. “Yeah,” she sighed and sunk down to sit in the grass where she stood. Suddenly too tired to take another step. Stitches came, set the the broken bone, applied a salve and bandaged her knuckles before going back to training.

At one point Cassandra appeared, pressed a large mug of steaming tea into her hands before disappearing again. When the mug was empty, Aella forced herself to get up, go up to her quarters and clean herself up. Her hair in a thick braid down her back, dressed in clean clothes and her face bearing no traces of her earlier tears, she went down to the main hall and finally sunk down onto the chair she'd been avoiding even looking at for months.

Thom was brought before her, hands shackled, head bowed. He was more gaunt than she'd realized. She knew they had been taking him food, but the idiot man had apparently not been eating. His hair was greasy and it looked like he'd aged years. “My Lady.”

His gravel voice soothed something inside of her. This man. Liar or not held her heart. “Thom Rainier,” her voice rang loud in the hushed room, and she saw him flinch ever so slightly. “You took the identity of a good man who died.” He lifted his head just enough, misery in his eyes. “With that, you did good things. Wonderful things. You used that to make the world a better place.” Now his eyes were full of confusion, unsure of where she was going with her words. “I expect you to do better.” 

Aella stood, took a step toward him. “I expect Thom Rainier to make up for the wrongs he's done. To do better than Warden Blackwall.”

“And how am I to do that, my lady? Will you send me to the Wardens? Banish me to edges of Tevinter with the Avvar?” 

Aella shook her head. “That is your choice. You're free to do as you wish. The only thing I expect of you is that you do better.” One of the guards released the shackles and he twisted his wrists, stared down at them, then up at her. 

“If I wish to stay?” 

“You may.” Her voice was steady, strong. 

“Is there a chance,” his voice full of hope. “That you would forgive me, one day?” 

Her jaw clenched and she turned her face away slightly. “You're a fool.”

Thom dropped his head forward, eyes clenched tight against the hurt. “I love you, Aella Adaar. I will, until my dying day.” She said nothing and he took a step back, waiting for dismissal. He'd accept it. He would cherish the memories of the moments he had with her. It would keep him until the end. Which considering the war they were in the middle of, probably wouldn't be long. But he would protect her with his dying breath.

“You are such a fool,” the words were a hiss, and then she had his face between her hands and her lips were on his. This kiss tasted like salt and hope. Love and promise. He cupped the back of her head, fingers slipping into her hair, while the other held her jaw. “That dying day,” she breathed against his mouth. “Had better be many, many years away, or I will never forgive you.” Then she was kissing him again, the sound of the crowds murmurs distant. 

She was a fool, she thought, grabbing hold of his shirt and all but dragging him to the door to her quarters. A bath and food were in order. Along with a very long talk. “I hate you,” she said against his lips as they stumbled up the stairs. “I hate you so much.” 

“As you should.”

Aella's heel caught on one of the steps and they fell hard against the wall. The kiss broken, Thom grabbed her wrists, pressed them to the wall behind her, pressed his forehead to hers. They stood like that for several moments, bodies pressed close, just breathing. “I love you, Thom Rainier.” 

They were words he'd never expected to hear. Ever. Not from someone who meant them. He'd heard them before, but they had been empty. But from Aella's lips... he slipped his arms around her waist, pressed his face into her shoulder and clung to her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed her lips against his ear, over and over she whispered those same words. “I love you, Thom. I love you.”


End file.
